Page 35 of Married to My Sis’s Bratva Fiancé

"Don't pretend you're tough with me," I murmured against her throat. "I felt you shaking."

"Stop talking," she managed, but her voice cracked, and she rolled her hips without meaning to, chasing my hand.

"Make me," I said.

Her nails dug into my shoulders. Her breath turned frantic, and her head tipped back as if she couldn't bear to look at what she was becoming. I kept my mouth on her skin, tasting the pulse at her throat, whispering into it.

"Come on," I coaxed. "Let go."

Her body tightened, then broke.

She came apart in my lap with a sharp, helpless sound, the kind she would've hated anyone else hearing. She clung to me like I was the only thing keeping her upright, trembling through it, mouth open, eyes squeezed shut.

I held her until the worst of it passed, until her shaking turned into soft, broken breaths. Then I kissed the corner of her mouth.

"Still think you didn't want me?" I asked.

She opened her eyes, dazed and furious at herself.

"Go to hell," she whispered.

I laughed under my breath, and the last thread of my restraint finally snapped.

I tugged at my belt, shoved my pants down just enough, and pulled her closer, guiding her into place. She stiffened for half a second, then her arms wrapped around my neck, and she nodded like she'd decided to stop fighting what was already inevitable.

"Hold on," I said.

Then I drove up into her, hard.

She cried out, the sound tearing free, and her fingers fisted in my hair. The car rocked subtly with the motion, the partition a silent shield, the city outside reduced to a blur of streetlights and passing shadows.

I set a brutal pace, the kind that didn't leave room for doubt. She took it, shaking, mouth brushing my ear as if she needed something to anchor her. Her hips moved with me, desperate now, meeting every thrust like she couldn't get enough.

"That's it," I growled. "Take it."

"Kiryan," she gasped, and it didn't sound like a warning anymore. It sounded like surrender.

I caught her under the thighs, lifting her just right, going deeper, harder. Her eyes rolled shut. Her breath turned into broken little cries she tried and failed to swallow.

"You were mine," I said into her mouth. "Tell me."

Her lashes fluttered. She looked wrecked and furious and beautiful.

"I hate you," she breathed.

"Liar." I bit her lower lip, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to make her shudder. "You were coming apart on my hand. You wanted this. You wanted me."

Her body clenched around me at the words, and she made a sound that went straight through my skull.

"Fuck," I hissed.

She started to shake again, the pressure building fast, too fast. I felt it in the way she tightened, the way her nails raked my back through my shirt, the way she chased me without any pride left to protect her.

"I'm close," she whispered, like it scared her.

"Then come." I slammed up into her, ruthless and precise. "Right now."

Her eyes flew open, and she broke again, harder this time, clenching around me so tight I nearly lost it on the spot. She cried out into my neck, biting my shoulder to muffle it, body spasming through the aftershocks.